


Night at Red's Bordello

by RAW_SYNTH3TICA



Category: The Lone Ranger (2013)
Genre: Biracial, Crack, Humor, M/M, Male Slash, Native American Character, Slash if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAW_SYNTH3TICA/pseuds/RAW_SYNTH3TICA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The surprises keep coming & Coming in Red's Bordello.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night at Red's Bordello

**Author's Note:**

> ALL IS FICTIONAL & NOT MINE  
> enjoy~!

The two, Lone Ranger and his riding partner Tonto sat in the overcrowded tables at Red’s Bordello establishment, John downing drinks for the madam Red Harrington’s gratitude for killing the bastard Cavendish who stole her leg and prima ballerina dreams along with all the promised fame the wide stage could offer her. The men sat at their spot front and center of the stage with their table full of shot glasses stacked to two levels, of Red’s ‘House Specialty’, Tonto sipped at his shot outnumbered one-to-eight against John who had a touch of buzz going as the stage paraded expensive French ladies catering to pleasures of the flesh. The most offensively high-piled hair and the lowest bodices, and the showiest lace stockings up for grabs as each woman spread her arms to reveal lace embroidered into wings , dresses flashing a long ivory leg as she marched forward, her wooden heels stomping in a set tempo which the saloon pianist followed with a buoyant ditty. 

Among the whiskey-soaked joys being lapped by the happy patron, creamy bodies scantily-clad, John found his eyes wandering back to his partner whom sat straight, his unpainted face showing signs of absolute bore, he looked exactly like a child who dreamed of playing when forced to sit through Sunday school. 

John smirked as he leaned forward to his partner, his voice raising several times to a shout since the other sounds drowned out his tipsy laughter, “You should go up there and give that crow of yours a reason to flap around.” 

Tonto’s eyes widened, then narrowed with a raised brow in the ranger’s direction, he crossed his arms and raised his chin in defiance, John kept on pushing with a devil-may-care shrug, “Well, that’s if you’re not too scared-” 

“Won’t do it?” Tonto stood up instantly, his posture terrifyingly serious but his eyes playfully shining in the bordello’s pink and orange spotlight. 

“By Red Harrington’s red heels - I doubt you’ll even lift a leg and step in step, Tonto,” John smiled good naturedly since he knew this was all in good fun with his riding companion. 

“We shall see,” Tonto put down his bandanna and the crow along atop the table, he hopped upon the stage as another tune played teasingly from intermission into a lively work of the devil himself to have the women already arranging themselves so quickly. 

Tonto bowed gracefully as a gentleman does, his legs together and straight, his right arm placed in a low sweep to his waist then raising as the madness began, a lady wrapped an arm about his neck as she hooked a leg over his hip, he swung her easily from his left to his right while two marched towards him with their knees and toes kicking high along the maddening cymbal crashes. Four in dainty black ballerina slippers rose on their toes behind, their lace wings drifting up in flight, their long legs whipping their bodies round and round in circles. Brass horns blew as the two in heels reached their destination, Tonto flipping one easily over his back, the other swinging underneath, they stood at his side flapping their dresses until the lace seemed as the downcast lily blossom whipping in a flurry of snow. 

John’s heart leapt from his own chest not for the flashing of legs nor the rouged smiles shot his way, he watched wholeheartedly at the fluid motions of Tonto lifting and keeping in stride lest his moccasins get stepped on, the ranger laughed as the girls each spun furiously and languidly lifted the lace and silk dresses up to their thighs, Tonto instead crossed his legs and pulled the leather tail of his waist attachment down in show-modesty. Cheers erupted from the crowd as two slender ballerinas sat hauled up upon Tonto’s shoulders, the girls in heels stomping with angry cadence, they bowed and backed away only to charge forwards, the two slender dancers lightly flipped off the shoulders, they circled him as a predator to her prey. Just as suddenly the tempo heightened, the girls and Tonto stood in a line, their arms hooked over the other’s elbows as they held themselves in a forward-facing chain, the girls kicked their knees high in the air followed by their straightened leg sweeping high into the air. 

John grabbed his sides as nervous laughter filled his lungs, he watched while his partner marched forward with the girls in stride, the mood of the bordello livening to the oncoming crescendo of the evening neared. Tonto stood and kicked soundlessly, his own mouth blown into a full grin, he stood a head above but felt overpowered by all the energy ready to set the stage aflame, the girls whooped like singing water birds in the midst of play, and all fell to the floor over their split legs, Tonto instead sat cross-legged and happy as a sunbathing lizard. 

“That was so-!” the ranger sat down from the bordello-wide standing ovation and calls for encore, he allowed Tonto a seat before finally sitting down himself, his hands patting his friends back as he shouted over the cheers, “I didn’t think you’d do it!” 

Tonto nodded with this wide smile as he shrugged off the rain of compliments his partner showered him with, he sat back and kicked out his moccasins from the bottom of his chair and quietly accepted his friend’s praise. 

“Tonto, this calls for celebration,” John shouted as he filled their shot glasses, he leaned forward and commended, “To the bravest man I ever knew. Cheers.” 

“And wildest women to live,” Tonto mumbled and tilted back the shot. 

John wrinkled his nose, he looked down at the shot glass obviously confused, he took another filled glass and tossed back, Tonto followed along after watching what the ranger did, they downed nearly a dozen before John realized the taste and content of the drink was very Off, he felt sick to his core as if someone had kicked him in the liver. 

“Strange,” he proclaimed, catching a tray-toting bordello maid by her arm and holding up the glass to her, “Excuse me, miss.” 

“Anything wrong, sugar?” she smiled the rouged come-hither smile seemingly for women not looking for a friendly chat. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m not drunk enough to ride backwards,” John explained, “The whiskey is defective.” 

“Aw, hon, Madam Red serves what she wants and the special is Special because you can have however much you want,” the barmaid thoughtfully clarified of the drink, she put a hand on her hip and looked to both men blankly staring at her as if she grew an extra eye on her head, “No man never complains for having supply of too much the good or bad affair.” 

Realization caught the ranger by his throat, he swallowed the bitter aftertaste and just Knew he should have caught on sooner than having the woman Tell him what they were drinking, “This is-” 

“Triple-distilled grade-A pigswill, hon, made by Madam Red herself,” the maid smiled, Tonto swore John’s face turned green at the answer. 

“Excuse me!” John stood up and rushed to the nearest door, Tonto and the barmaid stared after the swinging bar doors beyond the maroon curtains. 

“You’d like another?” she turned to Tonto whom shook his head in answer, she turned away and continued her rounds through the packed tables, “Sure thing, hon.” 

They both departed at least an hour before dawn, John completely leaned over Tonto as his empty stomach rumbled and throat burned from drinking too much of ‘Red’s Special’. He found dots connecting symptoms to the drink consisting of barley and corn odds and ends stewed haphazardly in dried sugarcane, that what they both had was a weakly alcoholic cure-all invented by Madam Red Harrington. The tracker was not at all affected, not visibly at least, John on the other hand was sicker than a dog that got kicked by a dozen porcupines sniffing the wrong end of trouble. He remembered trying to heave the night away but could hardly get anything up past his stopped up throat. 

“Dig me a hole and throw me in, Tonto,” the ranger said limply before they stopped long enough to decide on going westward on the invisible fork-in-the-road trail. 

Tonto snorted, then chuckled, “By Red Harrington’s red heels!”

**Author's Note:**

> a Slight change of pace & the can-can song was only 2 minutes long~ I tried my best there :P


End file.
